


More Than Just Hope (A Sherlock Fanfic)

by CumberBabe99



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Song Lyrics, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 04:17:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1765168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CumberBabe99/pseuds/CumberBabe99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sherlock Songfic,</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Carry On My Wayward Son

_"Carry on my Wayward Son_

_There'll be peace when you are done_

_Lay your weary head to rest_

_And don't you cry no more."_

* * *

Sherlock sat alone in a close to empty flat, all that was in it was the chair that he was sitting in, a small table, a wall plastered with information, pictures, and leads, and a small suitcase. He had just finished cleaning up Moriarty's web in Germany. Even though he was finished,his mind wouldn't stop racing. The thought's plagued him everywhere he went, anytime they liked. Memories of John and loneliness, that's what it was. He had never felt this lonely. Not before John. The feeling was not welcome, so he pushed it away. he pushed it to the back of his mind, where it was able to push back through. He couldn't stop thinking about John, how angry he must be at him, how confused, how lonely. Everywhere he went, John's voice followed. The worst memories of all were Johns voices.

_"He's my friend, Let me through, he's my friend."_

___________

_"Nobody could be that clever."_

_"You could."_

___________

_"Please, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me."_

_____________

He couldn't deal with the memories, he wanted to forget, forget how lonely he was. He wanted to be with John, right now the only way that he could be with him was in his dreams. He knew he would see John soon, but not soon enough. He had to speed up the process, he hadn't used any since the night of the fall. He couldn't do it anymore, his heart was breaking into a million pieces. He crept over to the suitcase, he unfolded a shirt and fingered the box that was hidden in the shirt. He lifted the lid to reveal a syringe and a tourniquet. 

* * *

 

He steadied his arm, ready to forget the loneliness for a while. He flexed his arm in impatience and slid the needle into his skin. His memories started fading away as he slipped into unconsciousness. He was running, running away from the loneliness. He would see John soon, he would see John soon.

"I'm sorry John. I couldn't stop myself from thinking of you." He whispered as he fell into a peaceful sleep.


	2. Breath Me

_"Ouch I have lost myself again_

_Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,_

_Yeah I think that I might break_

_I've lost myself again and I feel unsafe"_

* * *

John was lost without Sherlock, he was numb, numb to advice, numb to anything on the outside. He woke up every night from returned bad dreams. Only this time the dreams weren't just about Afghanistan. They were about Sherlock, about the man who saved him. The man whom he had saved in return. The man who meant more to him than anyone else. He had left him, confused, wondering why he would lie to him about something that he knew wasn't true. He had found comfort in Sherlock, in the one who had taught him so much about life, despite claiming knowing so little about the subject himself. He couldn't believe that he was dead. He had achieved the impossible. Hell, he himself was the thing being impossible sometimes. He couldn't help wishing that that was one of those times when the impossible was possible. 

* * *

 

He had no doubt become lost without his friend. He had lost that comfort, he had lost himself. He was only an empty shell. He had no idea what to do. He knew what his friend would do in his state. That made him angry. He was angry at Sherlock, for the drugs and making him constantly worry. Sometimes he would punch the mantle until his knuckles were bloody and that only made him angrier. He felt unprotected without Sherlock, he felt like he needed to be protected from himself, as hehad done for his friend for those four great years.


End file.
